


with a touch you bring me back to life

by vivalagay



Series: #stanhoneypup (honeypup one shots) [10]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, M/M, just... a... fic.. about gays in the '80s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-25 23:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14389032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivalagay/pseuds/vivalagay
Summary: Love came to him as a scrawny body with overgrown, messy hair, a flat chest and a dick, awful cooking skills (but, at least, knowing how much milk and sugar Jooheon likes in his coffee like the back of his hand,) off-key singing as the sunrise spreads over the sky like pink honey, long limbs that cling onto Jooheon in the night before stealing away all the cover, and a tiny house in Seoul to make memories just between the two of them.





	with a touch you bring me back to life

**Author's Note:**

> excuse this mess lmao but... i.... like it? i've went _two_ months without posting :((( my poor honeypup heart.. omg.. but after my grandpa died on wonho's birthday everything else in my life seriously... just tumbled lmao but on the bright side !11! i've been working on another honeypup fic since about last month (??) and hopefully i'll finish it because it's super cute and a bit angsty and ACTUALLY HAS A PLOT lmao. i love honeypup... and the '80s.. enjoy!!11!
> 
> title from "amazing" by foxes

It's the soft touch of familiar fingers grazing his back that shakes the sleep from Jooheon's bones. Minhyuk lightly drums them over his spine in a slow rhythm through his button-down, quiet voice kissed in his neck with a raspy 'morning' and tired smile.

His hand smooths down his back, slow and soothing, gentle kisses trailing up to plant onto his cheek, and Jooheon accepts each one with a delighted smile.

There's an orange and pink glow from the window that pours into the kitchen, washing stripes over every dish and cabinet, and the low wooden table in the kitchen where Minhyuk still hasn't put away the bag of fruit he hauled in from the market the day before. A small warmth sneaks in from the early sun with it, but Minhyuk's touch against his skin is much warmer, even if his hands are cold. Jooheon easily rests in them like they're a wool blanket.

"You're up early," Jooheon says over a steaming mug he scoops two spoons of coffee in. Minhyuk's body rests on him lazily. His head drops onto his shoulder, face rubbing into his neck with a yawn. "Ya, don't mess up my shirt."

"There's only one way I would mess up your shirt," Minhyuk smiles against his skin, "but I can't make you late for another job interview."

Jooheon shakes his head, stifling a laugh. Dear God, this man, barely awake and the quick, cheeky replies have already begun. "And you haven't even brushed your teeth yet."

"I did!"

"'No, you didn't." Without any words, Minhyuk blows his breath into his face so Jooheon gets a whiff of its minty scent in a cold gust of air that stings his eyes. Jooheon sighs, rubbing two fists into them. "I'm tired of you."

"No, you're not."

He's right, but Jooheon still _hmph_ s like Minhyuk is just full of himself. He is, either way. Far too full of himself. A little shit, that is, and somehow Jooheon still isn't tired of him.

"And anyway, you probably want me to mess up your shirt," Minhyuk laughs.

It's like he knows that it'll get a blush out of him. Jooheon thinks, mostly, that everything Minhyuk says is just so he can get satisfaction out of the way Jooheon ducks his head sheepishly, pink burning in his cheeks like he's being marked. There is never a time Minhyuk isn't like this.

"I'm tired of you," Jooheon says again. He sets his mug on the counter after a careful sip and crosses his arms over his chest. "I don't even know who you are. You just showed up."

Minhyuk laughs loudly and challenges him with disappointed hands flying to his own hips, gaping in amusement. "Really?"

"I don't know why you won't leave my house."

"Your house?" Minhyuk pinches Jooheon's hips. He tries wriggling out of his grip, but Minhyuk quickly pushes him against the counter, barking out a laugh with Jooheon shoving against all the weight press up against him.

They helplessly tousle with each other's hands like little kids, trying to grab the other's without giving the other boy a chance to take ahold of theirs. Jooheon manages to get a pinch out of Minhyuk's waist as he struggles with grabbing onto his arms. Minhyuk yelps and misses his chance, which is enough for Jooheon to snatch him by the wrists and shove him away.

Minhyuk easily finds his way back against him again. They grapple with each other some more, giggles falling from their lips, until Jooheon becomes tired of it and surrenders to Minhyuk's stern hands on his waist. He holds him against the counter, pushing him there slowly, grip firm, and kisses him.

Their opened mouths move together somewhere in between soft and rough — a fashion that's somehow veracious to describe the two of them. Minhyuk's arms find Jooheon's waist instead of his hands, snaking around him until their torsos are pushed together and Minhyuk can comfortably tilt his head. 

His lips make it to Jooheon's jawline, down to his neck, golden skin glistening under a streak of sunlight with each wet stamp Minhyuk can plant on him.

Minhyuk's long fingers are nimble undoing the first few buttons that expose Jooheon's throat, mouth grazing over his Adam's apple so teasingly that Jooheon doesn't bother shoving at his chest and complaining about how he could wrinkle his shirt or pop a few buttons. Two things he knows Minhyuk would thoughtlessly do in under two seconds.

He is gracious enough to mouth where Jooheon can easily hide it under his white collar. Sucking and biting where he pleases with Jooheon reaching his hands behind himself to weakly grip the counter.

Minhyuk brushes their noses when he pulls away and smiles at him, blinking slow and uneven. So content. So pretty.

Jooheon laces his fingers through the messy, dark strands of Minhyuk's hair, and he doesn't know what he ever did to deserve him. Someone so happy and loving, who cares about him and makes sure that Jooheon is aware of just how much he does every breathing second.

Jooheon runs his fingertips over his cheek where the side of the Minhyuk's face fits into his palm as if his hands were merely made to hold his cheeks in it. Minhyuk strokes his face against his touch like he's Jooheon's puppy. Like a kitten rubbing its face into its owner's leg.

"I love you, baby," Minhyuk whispers. He always says it like Jooheon doesn't know, but Jooheon knows that more than anything.

He grins. Minhyuk pecks his lips to his palm, then bites him.

It's the perfect way to ruin a moment. Minhyuk is as good at sparking romance as he is burning it. 

Jooheon hits him in retaliation, and then they're back at it again, childishly tousling with each other against the counter, and Jooheon, smile wide and giggling manically, sliding on the hardwood floor with socked feet sprinting away from Minhyuk like he doesn't have to go to an interview anytime soon. Like there isn't a cup of coffee growing cold on the counter.

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

They've been like this for a while: just the two of them in a tiny house in Seoul.

Jooheon never thought he would have a home that wasn't the one he grew up in. He knew every inch of the house, every memory held within it from the stories his mother would tell him on the steps of their house when he was just a little, stubby toddler, to the memories Jooheon created on his own with his best friend who lived down the street and his little brother whose toys scattered across the living room floor is the reason Jooheon fell and broke a bone for the first time.

There was a plan, because with Jooheon there always has to be a plan. It would always be him and his parents and little brother, then, eventually, a kind wife who would move in with him somewhere along the way. They'd create their own memories together taking care of his parents, and then there'd be another stubby toddler to waddle around and create memories for themselves.

But Minhyuk happened. Or, rather, Jooheon's second year of high school happened with Minhyuk and his infectious, bright smile and chirpy voice ringing with a lilt of Seoul transferring to his school.

It was like he dropped from the sky. Sprouted like a flower in the middle of winter. Out of nowhere.

And it hadn't been long before Jooheon became curious of him like every other boy in his school trying to decide whether or not they should loathe him. Somehow—really, Jooheon still doesn't quite know how—Minhyuk and his wrinkly, short-sleeved button-down fluttered Jooheon's heart.

Jooheon's mom loved Minhyuk, which made up for how much Jooheon's dad hated him. 

It was comprehensible in some ways, disregarding the fact Jooheon's dad believed everyone from Seoul were delinquents and thieves. Minhyuk wasn't a delinquent or a thief; he was just bad at listening and sometimes a handful.

Minhyuk would stay out past curfew and get caught by the police sitting in alleyways to eat ice cream, he didn't really have any opinions on religion, and he laughed so loud that his dad would get startled at the sound of it.

Minhyuk's humor and loudness takes time to get, but Jooheon's dad had no patience for it. He would complain about Minhyuk's presence as if Minhyuk wasn't standing right there to hear all of it, and then slide open the door to his room mumbling intelligible insults about _this Seoul boy_ until the door slid closed behind him.

But his dad also didn't see how happy Minhyuk made him. Jooheon never really did anything for himself until he met Minhyuk. With Minhyuk, he didn't have to worry if he's being a good boy, if he's being too loud, too annoying, too anything. He could just _be_ , and Minhyuk would so easily reveal the loud and exhilarated boy that he concealed with a quiet, shaky voice and fidgeting fingers whenever he put his school uniform on.

So, Jooheon's plan were ruined, and love came to him as a scrawny body with overgrown, messy hair, a flat chest and a dick, awful cooking skills (but, at least, knowing how much milk and sugar Jooheon likes in his coffee like the back of his hand,) off-key singing as the sunrise spreads over the sky like pink honey, long limbs that cling onto Jooheon in the night before stealing away all the cover, and a tiny house in Seoul to make memories just between the two of them.

Love came to him when Jooheon was a bit drunk (because Minhyuk's dad was awful at hiding beer from his mom and, also, Minhyuk didn't care about being caught because he'd just had another bad argument with his parents,) lying on the hardwood floor with Minhyuk giggling beside him for no reason, their fingers brushing and brushing, never really interlocking, and —

"Let's run away," Minhyuk told him. He tucked a hand under his head, holding it up so he could peer down at him. There was a button on Jooheon's school uniform shirt that was loosening and Minhyuk just kept playing with it, absently running his finger over the little, white _'x'_ sewed in the middle of it, probably waiting for it to pop off.

"Right now?" Jooheon asked, like an idiot. He was quite daft still, much like he is now, except he was eighteen and knew nothing about how to carry out with things such as running away. Minhyuk didn't either, but, well, he was much more skilled in playing life like a big ad-lib than Jooheon was.

Minhyuk smiled, shook his head. "No, not right now."

"When?" Jooheon questioned. Then he pulled himself onto his elbows, barely having the balance to properly sit up. "Where?"

He hesitated. "Seoul."

"Seoul?" Jooheon repeated. It seemed out of place — Minhyuk running away to somewhere he's already lived before. Running back. "I've never been to Seoul."

"I have."

Obviously. 

Jooheon wasn't sure if he would like Seoul. But he knew that he liked Minhyuk and Minhyuk was from Seoul. Minhyuk _was_ Seoul, from his accent to his black floral button-down tucked in denim.

"What's for us in Seoul?"

"I don't know," Minhyuk replied, honestly. He licked at his lips, finger running over the wriggling button on Jooheon's school shirt again. "Let's find out?"

After Jooheon's graduation, they did. On a bus with excited smiles and just two small bags to take with them, Jooheon rolled off with Minhyuk to leave his family behind, his childhood memories, his _plan_.

(A breath of fresh air — that's what Jooheon would call Minhyuk. Somehow, that's what he's always been.)

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

Seeds sprout in the small pots that Minhyuk lined on their roof a few weeks before. They're tiny and green, and Minhyuk gushes over them with a bright smile as he feeds the sprouting sweet peas water.

Its his occasional florist job that's taking some sort of influence over him. A neighborhood ahjumma needed help at her flower shop and of course Minhyuk jumped at the opportunity with no knowledge of flowers or how to care for them, but, apparently, with all the right excitement to learn. Minhyuk has a problem with taking on jobs and projects. Jooheon doesn't mind it that much, though. Minhyuk is fairly creative, and when he has his mind stuck on something, he does it well.

Besides, Jooheon had mentioned a month before it'd be nice to have some flowers to gaze at when they sit on the roof during spring. 

"It should take a few months," Minhyuk tells him, wiping his hands off on his jeans. "That's what Miss Jeong Sook told me."

"Yeah?" Jooheon smiles, pretending that he cares about the flowers. "It looks like you're doing well. Just don't let them die."

"Of course I won't let them die!" he playfully shouts. "You think I'll kill them?"

"Aren't you a bit destructive?"

"Destructive? Not me!" Minhyuk can't help but smile through that blatant lie. He can drop and break things in a second. Miss Jeong Sook has told Jooheon enough of the tragic stories that take place in her flower shop when Minhyuk is around.

"I give them another month, and then they'll die."

"No, they won't!" Minhyuk argues. He crosses his arms, pouting childishly and aggressively throwing his body into Jooheon's shoulder when he only has an innocent smile to give him. "You're so mean! You're going to make me paranoid! My flowers will be beautiful!"

"They will be beautiful," Jooheon agrees to bring a smile to his face. He runs a gentle hand over Minhyuk's back and pecks a kiss to his lips. "You should put some of your time into learning how to cook well."

Minhyuk shoots him a glare. "Shut up."

They leave behind a lilac sunset to sit in the living room with bowls of rice and stew of thick broth and pork, the radio sweeping through the house with trot —  _always_ trot, because it's the only cassette tapes Minhyuk has and he's tired of listening to Jooheon's Western cassette tapes because _all this English will make my blood clot_.

Jooheon loudly slurps from his bowl. Minhyuk kicks his feet up on Jooheon's lap, happily humming along to the radio, and holds out his chopsticks for Jooheon to take in a mouthful of rice. Jooheon rests a hand on Minhyuk's skinny legs that absently rubs a hand along his khakis. His pants are always cuffed at his legs, long, white socks of weird patterns always on display. Jooheon squeezes his leg and strokes the inside of his ankle.

"Do we have to listen to this?" he asks for probably the fourth time.

Minhyuk seems rather unbothered by his exasperation. Only sways his head to it a little more, humming around a spoonful of stew.

"Your music taste is just like you," Jooheon tells him.

"I know." Minhyuk smiles from ear-to-ear. "Makes you feel happy. Catchy. Delightful —"

"I was thinking more like, _annoying_ ," Jooheon interrupts. Minhyuk shoves at his chest, pulling his legs from his lap and getting in his face with a mocking laugh. He picks up his spoon and sings into it, mouth wide, voice loud, as passionate and ridiculous as he needs to be. Jooheon just rolls his eyes at him, but he can't help the smile tugging at his lips.

Minhyuk actually has a good voice on him, even though he seems to like singing better when he's just belting like there's no one to hear him, screeching until there's a scratch in his throat. Jooheon could imagine him recording his own song to have on a cassette tape, Minhyuk's vanilla vocals graciously filling their house as the morning leaks through the window. It would be Jooheon's favorite. He would give away all his Western tapes in a second.

"I'm going to the market in the morning," Minhyuk says once he settles down. He tucks his legs under his himself, pushing a hand through his hair. "Need anything, baby?"

"Don't think so." Jooheon sets his empty bowl next to him, patting a hand to his full belly. "You're not going to work tomorrow?"

"Miss Jeong Sook doesn't need me to help her tomorrow," Minhyuk replies, "and Miss Seo Jin just needs me to pick up a few things for her at the market. I've already gotten her groceries for the week yesterday."

Minhyuk runs errands for a grandma in their neighborhood. It's not really for the money, though. It had been a while that Minhyuk would run around for her, picking up things around town, sending off letters, laughing with her over tea in the afternoon. The grandma felt too bad not paying him, and it'd taken quite a bit of her (and a bit of Jooheon's) persuading before he started taking the white envelopes she hands him every month.

"Oh!" Minhyuk looks at him with lifted brows when he catches Jooheon mouthing along to the radio, taking a gulp from his glass of water. "I thought trot was annoying!"

Jooheon actually does like trot. He's spent a lot of his time snuggled into his mom's side as she sang along to her favorite artists.

Still, he turns away, smiling deviously. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't try to pretend like you weren't enjoying my tape," Minhyuk chuckles. He shoves against him when Jooheon only replies with silence, and then, eventually, Jooheon breaks. He knows every word and has no problem singing along, dancing as well as he can while sitting down.

Minhyuk bubbles with laughter and dances with him. Moving his hips as he's dragged into Jooheon's arm to kiss his jaw, his temple, singing into his hair with a chuckle.

"I love your voice," Jooheon tells him. His fingers drum along into Minhyuk's hip, smile wide.

"Yeah?"

"I could hear it all the time."

"You do," Minhyuk chuckles.

It's true. Minhyuk is always singing. As he bathes, as he washes the dishes, cleaning the house, cuddling against Jooheon's chest as they fall asleep. Jooheon is always wrapped in Minhyuk's pretty voice.

"And you," Minhyuk says, grinning with his teeth pressed into his bottom lip as he rubs a hand over Jooheon's chest. "I love everything about you."

"I know."

"You know what my favorite feature of you is?" Jooheon hums, and, anyway, Minhyuk lightly squeezes his face in his hands, like he already doesn't do it enough. "Your cheeks. Your squishy, dimpled cheeks just show how sweet and soft you are. You're so pretty, Jooheon-ah, my sweet baby."

Jooheon only smiles, ducking his head. It's amazing how sheepish Minhyuk can still make him, and he only gleams with the stupid blush growing at Jooheon's cheeks, kissing his flushed skin until their lips find each other.

Minhyuk eases Jooheon onto the floor, straddling his waist with his hands running along his chest. Easily, he pulls his tee shirt from over his head. His dark hair flops back in place messily and Jooheon strokes the strands fondly, lacing his fingers through it.

Minhyuk's shoulders are wide, collarbones sharp with small muscles that Jooheon wants to feel under his hands, press his lips to and leave marks all over. But Minhyuk has already claimed position as doing what he wants, as he usually does.  Jooheon knows to just go along with it, fall into Minhyuk's rhythm, fingers curling at Minhyuk's nape as he mouths at his neck, over his collarbones, shirt rolling into his fist to tug over Jooheon's head.

He always works quick at first, knowing what'll shoot right to his dick, what'll have him yanking off his belt and desperately reaching for his waist.

It's the way Minhyuk looks up at him, though, a fiery ball with a rough, wet mouth all over his body, that really jerks at Jooheon's dick. He knows how to make Jooheon feel special, obediently following the way Jooheon pushes at his head, lower and lower, teeth harshly biting at his own lips with each kiss over his ribs and belly that's just _not enough_ , then his eyes flick up. Brown eyes pooled in lust, like Jooheon is all that he needs, the only touch that he wants. 

"Such a beautiful boy," Minhyuk says to his skin. "My beautiful boy."

Jooheon's dick thickens, pathetically. He desperately hunts for Minhyuk's hand to tend to his cock, rubbing it over his jogging pants with an amused smile tugging at Minhyuk's lips. There's no blush Jooheon has to spare, only a little whimper when Minhyuk grips him easily, squeezing his erection through the fabric. 

"You love making a mess of me," Jooheon utters. 

Eyes dragging over him, Minhyuk laughs. "My favorite thing, baby."

It is, patently. He lets Jooheon's dick spring from his jogging pants and curls a hand around him with such familiarity. It feels like forever, somehow, since he has felt Minhyuk on him, touching him.

He smooths his thumb over the precome building at his head, making him impatient. It's a goal for him, possibly, and Jooheon just breathes heavily in anticipation. His slow thumb working around the slickness. He drags his hand down, painfully slow, then presses Jooheon's sputtering dick to his belly.

It's just a little tease at his balls with a finger. A feathery touch tracing over the soft skin, stroking it gently. His eyes flick up to him again as he sucks it into his mouth, and Jooheon swears that Minhyuk really does love making a mess of him. His gaze bores into him, innocently, smile curling at his lips at the way Jooheon looks back at him with half-lidded eyes, mouth opened.

Minhyuk would probably bite at his lips if he weren't between his legs, probably lick and suck Jooheon's lips red and sore.

His mouth can be soft when it wants to. But Minhyuk doesn't bother with softness any longer. Even his hand is rough on his thigh, slipping onto his skin and gripping tightly, spreading open his legs when he pulls his mouth away with wet lips and a teasing smile.

"Keep your eyes on me," Minhyuk instructs, hand twisting back around his shaft. 

Jooheon nods because there's no way he'd want to look away, and Minhyuk strokes him some more, running his finger over where its slick and sticky, before swallowing him down with ease.

He knows just how to hollow his cheeks, and Jooheon complies easily with Minhyuk's command, teeth grazing his lips, chest quickly rising and falling, watching as Minhyuk's pretty lips stretch around him. He sinks to the base of his cock and Jooheon can feel it — his opened throat right there for him to lift his hips and fuck into.

His hands are so rough. So demanding, pushing Jooheon's legs up until his knees are bending and they're spread wide for him to tightly hold his thighs the way he pleases.

Taking control just the way that he likes it, squeezing against Jooheon's thighs as his head bobs up and down because he can honestly never get enough of so much thickness on Jooheon's legs for him to grab.

Minhyuk moans around him — the little shit. His hair falls over his eyes and his lips are still glistening with spit, nearly dripping.

"Hyung," Jooheon breathes. He hums and it sends a chill through him, a gasp exhaled from his lips. "Hyung — _fuck_  — touch yourself."

He can't really see if Minhyuk listens, but with the way he shifts his position, Jooheon imagines that he does. His thighs push onto Minhyuk's shoulders. He holds him up with barely so much as a thought of it, staring up at him with those dark eyes like a stirred cup of tea.

A moan leaves his lips. Breathless and shaken. It's how Minhyuk likes it, knowing that he's pushing Jooheon closer and closer over the edge. His mouth slides up around the head, sucking Jooheon's hips into shudders, tongue lapping it and licking at his slip before taking him in again.

It's enough to have Jooheon's hand in his hair.

He tugs, fingers curling, pulling Minhyuk in and him obliging so perfectly with a small choke, Jooheon's legs wrapped around his neck as his head bobs in between them with a rhythm Jooheon tries to follow with his hand. He pushes Minhyuk's head forward, back, breath sucking in tight in his chest.

"Minhyuk," Jooheon struggles. His voice is strained, hand tight in Minhyuk's hair, and he comes into his wet, stretched mouth with a loud groan and Minhyuk still sucking as he chases his orgasm.

He pops off, smile cocky when he swallows it down like it's nothing. There are beads of sweat at his temple that there's no reason for wiping. Minhyuk is there, pressing smiles to his face as he exhales slowly, soft kisses planted in his messy hair.

"You make the prettiest noises for me," Minhyuk whispers. Jooheon smiles at him, dopily. "My baby, so loud for me. You're all mine, right?"

"All yours," Jooheon breathes. "Only yours."

Minhyuk grins. Jooheon can taste himself on his tongue when their lips come together, fingers running along Minhyuk's hair again.

He exhales, long and heavy, before gripping Minhyuk by the waist and carefully pushing him onto the floor, tugging his khakis from his legs.

"You gonna make some pretty noises for me too?" Jooheon asks.

Minhyuk laughs, resting against the hardwood floor with a hand pushing through his hair. "Of course, baby."

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

"Remember when we fucked for the first time and you cried like a baby?" 

Minhyuk huffs a laugh. He's sat at their vanity, pulling a brush through his hair as Jooheon lays out their quilt on the floor. His shirt is still off him. Jooheon takes a few glances of the way they beautifully flex when he stretches, dropping the tiny brush on the wooden top.

"No," Minhyuk answers, and there's such a disbelief that Jooheon's eyes widen.

" _Really?_ I remember vividly how I wiped your tears."

"Oh, please, there were barely any tears for you to wipe."

"Barely?" Jooheon snorts. He pats the quilt. "You were hysterical."

"You're so full of exaggeration!" Minhyuk shakes his head and stands up, dropping to his knees before lazily flinging himself on the quilt. Jooheon swats at Minhyuk for him to move over and evenly slips the blanket over their bodies where Minhyuk snuggles into his arms so easily, a smile pressing to Jooheon's cheek.

Minhyuk did actually cry. It wasn't even that big of a thing, which is what he tells him, something he totally would've been able to brush off if it weren't for the hug that Jooheon pulled him into when he saw the tears glistening in his eyes. He curled into Jooheon's shoulder with just a small brush of fingers to his arm, all quiet sniffs and hushed whimpers.

Jooheon could only pat him, slow and confused. For a while, he was convinced his sex was just really good, and then worried he was just _really_ bad. But it wasn't long before they had sex for the second time and Minhyuk had no tears to shed so Jooheon just sort of forgot about it.

"Why did you cry, anyway?"

"Because I'm just emotional." Minhyuk explains, simply. He tugs at Jooheon's hair playfully at the look he's given, brushing a hand at a loose, black strand. "Actually, I started thinking about how great you are. Like, you just make me happy, and I never wanted you to leave me."

Jooheon's heart flutters. He knocks their foreheads, smile spreading over his lips. Sometimes, he can fall in love with him all over again. Like the first time his blood pumped for Minhyuk, heart racing, eyes widening.

"Then," Minhyuk adds, "I knew I was really screwed."

Jooheon shoves at his chest with a laugh. "I hate you."

"I love you."

Minhyuk attaches their lips, resting a hand over Jooheon's thumbing gently at his hipbone.

"Don't deny it, though. We both know _I'm_ the one who made your life better," Minhyuk tells him.

It's said jokingly with long fingers curling around Jooheon's nape to pull him in for another kiss. But, still, there's some truth in it, Jooheon thinks. Maybe more than some.

"But I made you happy," Jooheon tosses out.

"You did," Minhyuk agrees easily, beaming with his mouth sucking in his own top lip. "You do."

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

Jooheon wasn't a recalcitrant teenager, or even _that_ loud when he wasn't supposed to be.

Sure, he was scolded for making jokes in class while the teacher spoke and punished whenever he approached the chalk board to solve a problem only to have left more chalk on his hands than the board, and the school's instructor always tsked about him, shaking his head in exasperation at how weak Jooheon's march was, how terribly he synchronized with all his other classmates who were strong with great posture and stern faces.

What a pure disgrace to the Korean military ― that's what Jooheon was. Apparently.

Jooheon received a lot of punishments, but he was far from a recalcitrant teenager. At least, in his opinion. He knew if he messed up, his dad would probably beat his ass, and he wasn't trying to test that assumption. But without even asking for it, the crowd just pulled him in.

It wasn't his fault. Jooheon didn't ask Sojung from the girls' school near his own to develop a crush on him. He doesn't know what she found crush-worthy about him either. His face could barely be seen under the forage cap that was far too big for his head. He'd never gotten a smaller one, besides how much his mom promised she wouldn't forget, and his high school years went by with the peak of his cap always falling in his eyes.

And, anyway, Jooheon hadn't developed yet like every other boy in his class. His jawline wasn't entirely defined yet and his cheeks were still too chubby, _boy-ish_. The short bowl-cut nearing his hairline didn't make it any better either.

Still, Sojung liked him, or that's what Jooheon _heard_ , and her ex-boyfriend―the obvious superior of the two―wasn't too happy about it.

It started with light threats. No matter how _light_ it was, Jooheon was still pretty terrified about it. His hyungs, Hyunwoo and Hoseok, were usually enough to scare the boy and his friends away with so much of a show of their face, but of course they graduated and moved on with their lives, and Jooheon was still deeply hated by this boy.

He does admit that he was an easy target. Jooheon couldn't even march properly. Defending himself was pretty much out of the picture and aggression only came easy when the person was preferably fifteen-hundred feet away from him. 

With Hyunwoo and Hoseok gone, Jooheon spent a lot of his time finding ways to sneak cigarettes and chewing gum to Sojung's ex to keep him from shoving his foot up his ass and taking a few shoves and punches that were easily explained away as "friendly banter" whenever the teachers and school instructor happened to be looking.

Jooheon just played along with it until he couldn't anymore and word started going around his class that he was going to get jumped by Sojung's ex and his friends after school. 

There wasn't a lot of excitement around, obviously. The most thrill the boys got out of their days were the few occasions they visited the girls' school and dopily batted their eyelashes at the shy girls in white sailor uniforms, skirts long past their knees, without actually saying anything because speaking to someone you find even remotely attractive is _far_ out of line. 

Jooheon being jumped was understandably one of the most exciting things that could've happened to their class that month.

After the boys were dismissed home that day, everyone was ecstatic, lingering around in anticipation for Jooheon to get his ass kicked. Jooheon, too, was even waiting for his own ass to be kicked.

There was no one to protect him, and he was scared deep to his core of Sojung's ex and his friends, but he was more scared of his dad who nearly found the cigarettes hid in his backpack for them. Jooheon was too restless and too paranoid to put himself in a vulnerable position again. And, anyway, he was getting tired of not having any money left over for gummies. It was getting difficult trying to explain to his parents why he couldn't buy his own snacks, and Jooheon was a fairly awful liar. He becomes too anxious, too dry-mouthed and jumpy eyes.

Like promised, Sojung's ex approached Jooheon with a cocky smile after school ended, hands nonchalantly buried in his blue uniform trousers. They were a few feet from campus so the instructor or teachers wouldn't see them. Jooheon prayed, either way, the instructor would march by and break it up, but he was pretty sure that he was screwed.

It seemed to be God's punishment for lying and sneaking around so much. Jooheon decided he would just take it like a man but still flinched when the boy suddenly jumped at him, breaking into a laugh as his friends joined him in the center of the circle.

"I'm going to show your punk ass what happens when you think you're tough," he told him, rolling his neck. He sounded so cool, hovering over Jooheon with hands curling into confident fists. If only Jooheon could be that sure of himself. "Any last words?"

"Um," Jooheon uttered. He's pretty sure it wasn't an actual invitation for him to speak, but he still tried to think of something clever to say. At least he could've gone down being known as witty.

Now, with a lack of a preparation, he would just get jumped being known as a wimp. And a punk ass.

"Don't you think this is a little unfair?" a voice interrupted.

The crowd severed easily. Jooheon's sunbae, his real life Moses, stepped through it, gently nudging Jooheon behind him where he hid graciously. 

Jooheon didn't know Hyungwon, but being one of the tallest boy at the school, he was pretty easy to be spotted, even if he rarely said anything. He was one of those boys everyone inevitably envied.

His long hair was always neat under his forage cap, school uniform fitting his skinny body like he should be posing for a magazine. He probably hit his growth spurt in elementary school.

"Four against one?" Hyungwon explained, voice quiet with somehow every word being perfectly comprehensible. "There is no balance; this is bullying."

"He's right," Jooheon murmured behind his back.

"As your senior, I think whatever he did to upset you can he handled differently," Hyungwon continued. "Please settle your conflicts without violence."

There was an obvious change of demeanor in him. Sojung's ex loosened his fists, stealing a few glares at the top of Jooheon's cap visible behind Hyungwon's back. 

"I don't want to be rude," he tells him, respectfully. "But, sunbae, despite what you think about the situation, I'm still going to beat him up."

"Then I'm not moving."

Hyungwon was amazing. Jooheon would've hugged him if he could, probably pepper kisses all over his pretty face. He was like Hoseok and Hyunwoo, except through actual words. A lovely, tall pacifist.

But Hyungwon was amazing as long as he could.

Suddenly, Sojung's ex punched him in the chest, and Hyungwon flew, literally, crumbling to the ground with his knees pushed into his chest like a fetus.

The students went into an uproar, electrified with finally action of some sorts. Jooheon wanted to offer help to his sunbae. He was coughing, hat thrown off, but all Jooheon could hear was the excited cheers of the boys surrounding him, his pulse thumping wildly in his ears, and he did what he _is_ good at ― sprinting off into the opposite direction.

Easily, Sojung's ex and his friends came running after him with half of the class following.

Jooheon hoped he could lose them. His legs were fast and he already had a head start shooting away from the crowd, dodging into the narrow streets.

He should've prayed harder.

He should've skipped school right when the rumor reached him, sat out in an alley with hopes no one would find him with his hands harshly clasped together.

His legs began to throb, and when he glanced behind himself―vaguely, because his balance was becoming unsteady―he could see Sojung's ex gaining on him, those left dedicated enough to see the fight unfold between them flowing in behind like a wave of water.

Jooheon's throat tightened, heart pumping, and no ― he couldn't cry right now.

Crying couldn't be the go to. He had to try to run faster, lose them, duck behind anything that could hide him long enough for Sojung's ex to grow tired of messing with him and finally go along his way.

It was then that an arm yanked him out. Out of nowhere, seemingly. He stumbled over his feet, swallowing a scream when he pressed his back against the building in the alleyway. 

His heart thumped wildly in his chest.

Their eyes locked.

"Um," Jooheon whispered, widening eyes dragging over the boy. A third grader. Jooheon recognized him as the Seoul boy. "Hi?"

Minhyuk had transferred to their high school only a few weeks before. He had a strange vibe about him ― all the right things to make him likeable and popular, except his voice chirped out as a quiet mouse, eyes always low and sheepish.

Jooheon didn't know why he seemed so scared of everything. He was in his last year, for one, and he had handsome, gentle features, tall in height. He was the epitome of what anyone would want to hang out with. Sometimes, Jooheon would even steal a glance of Minhyuk in the front yard, plopped on a bench, alone, with everyone else chattering around him. His head was always in his notebook, doodling away pictures Jooheon was always curious to see, or skimming over the pages of some comic book.

"You okay?" Minhyuk asked.

His breath fanned over Jooheon's face, and then Minhyuk gasped, quickly stepping away with a ducked head and burning cheeks at how close they were.

Minhyuk's cap was already off, wrinkled blue uniform shirt― _always_ wrinkled―unbuttoned to the white tee shirt underneath.

He'd been here for quite some time, it seemed. Just sitting in an alley. Sort of weird, if you asked Jooheon.

"I'm fine," Jooheon uttered, slowly nodding.

Minhyuk softly smiled, and just the small action altered his sheepishness into bright features, magically brushing every inch of his face. His eyes seemed to glisten, and even though Jooheon had a chance to slow his heart, it was suddenly thumping again. Wild and frantic in his chest.

"Thanks," Jooheon murmured. His cheeks were burning themselves. He ducked his head, and then Minhyuk ducked his head, pushing a hand through a dark fringe.

It went like that for quite some time. The two of them shy and flushed, fingers fidgeting where they may. 

Then, Jooheon realized he could only hear the sound of his own breathing.

The heavy steps of running teenagers, excited shouts of encouragement from his classmates, were gone.

Jooheon looked at Minhyuk. His lips were pursed, eyes glued to his black shoes. He looked up too, startled to see Jooheon's eyes on him, and sucked his top lip into his mouth. Clasping his unsteady hands together in front of him, he quickly darted his eyes away.

"So," Jooheon said, stupidly, "I guess I should go now?"

Minhyuk smiled again and quickly nodded. "Okay."

Exhaling, Jooheon nodded at him with a small smile and walked away. Minhyuk said something to him, but his voice was so quiet Jooheon had to stop his footsteps and ask him to repeat it again.

"I said," Minhyuk mumbled, chuckling softly to himself, "'don't get beat up.'"

Jooheon barked out a laugh that had Minhyuk nearly jumping a foot in the air. But, easily, he'd laughed with him, muscles relaxing, eyes glued to his feet.

"Get home safely."

Minhyuk hummed and Jooheon scurried off, some stupid smile licked over his lips.

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

They fall in love a bit like this ―

hidden looks in the hallway, Minhyuk looping a shy finger through the belt loops of Jooheon’s pants as they walked home after school. Laughs over dumplings, and blushes, _so_ many blushes, cheeks stained and sheepish and secret smiles that were only for each other.

The movie they first saw together. Minhyuk's sneaky hands breaking him past being the shy one as their fingers brushed between the seats with hesitation and uncertainty, until they were finally holding hands like it was nothing. Fingers interlocked in the darkness. Another secret between them. 

Their kisses were more secrets. The way Minhyuk's lips brushed against his like Jooheon was the only thing he was ever sure of.  

It was in the way Minhyuk held Jooheon in his arms, fingers gentle stroking the red mark on his cheek where his dad hit him that made Minhyuk his home. How whenever Minhyuk would argue with his parents, he could always run to Jooheon with tear-stained cheeks, and they'd sit in the alleyway past curfew and share ice cream.

Every second with Minhyuk, things were easy. A sense of all that was wrong falling together, into place, becoming complete.

Like a puzzle.

Like Jooheon had been missing a piece all this time, and Minhyuk yanked him in that alley with his pretty smile and gentle eyes and handed it right to him.

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

It's Jooheon whose hands find Minhyuk's waist as the rainy morning dulls the sky and an egg fries on the stove. Their home fills with the aroma of breakfast and the milk-stirred coffee that Minhyuk works a spoon into with a small smile to glance back at Jooheon.

His hair is trimmed under a pair of headphones, a tiny, satin scarf tied around his neck. His forehead is slightly covered by the bangs carefully brushed above his sideburns, and Jooheon thinks he's so pretty like this. 

Jooheon always thinks Minhyuk is pretty. It's the bright aura he has, bubbly with a tinge of femininity that just glows so well on him.

It's strange sometimes that it's him who gets Minhyuk. It's him who shares a home with him and receives butterfly kisses on the tip of his nose when they drift to sleep together at night. His Minhyuk. To love, to care for, to steal the egg he fries because he can and he loves giggling like a kid when Minhyuk's feet comes slapping against the hardwood floor after him.

"Where are you going?" Jooheon questions, stopping the Walkman Minhyuk has sitting on the counter.

He's clad with an oversized jean jacket pulled over his white tee shirt. Smiling a soft kiss to his shoulder, Jooheon tucks the shirt into the loose jeans pulled up over his belly, gently running his nose over the curve of his neck. 

"Going to bring Miss Seo Jin some flowers," Minhyuk tells him, smiling. His pot is on the table where the pink, purple and white sweet peas sprouted into flowers. Minhyuk took care of them and they grew well, beautifully. Just like he said they would.

All of his pots line around the roof with vibrancy and color that Jooheon likes to peer at as he sips a glass of iced tea, Minhyuk, happily, curled into his shoulder and admiring his work with a glowering sense of cockiness.

"Oh, she'll like them." Minhyuk nods happily and passes the mug into Jooheon's hands to sip from, letting the nice warmth run over him like sprinkling water, before setting it on the counter and gripping onto the waist again of what's even warmer.  "I love you."

He doesn't say it enough. 

But he loves Minhyuk, and he needs to let him know. 

Sometimes, he just wants to shout it at the top of his lungs and pull Minhyuk into him, attaching their lips, touching him and tasting him.

And Minhyuk already knows. _Of course_ he knows, because love is so much more than three letter words and _this_  ― the way their hearts thump with the same rhythm and they fall together like they were always meant to ― is the epitome of being in love.

Jooheon will never get tired of saying it, or hearing it from Minhyuk's lips, just how Minhyuk will never get tired of kissing his dimples, squeezing his cheeks in his massive hand and telling Jooheon how he's such a pretty boy. _His_ pretty boy.

Minhyuk's hands come to grab his face, leaning into him so those sparkling, dark eyes is all he can look at. "I love you more."

That's impossible.

But Jooheon just kisses him because Minhyuk's lips are so soft and pink, bottom lip slightly plump, and Jooheon doesn't know how he's ever lived his life without kissing them.

His hand smooths over his back, and it feels like home.

Like the crowded, narrow streets, the greasy food from vendors that Minhyuk feeds him with a bright smile. Like the soft hum of the television painting color over their skin. Like the scent of soap that lingers on Minhyuk's tee shirts and button-downs, that Jooheon can still smell when he sinks his nose into a shirt of his own. Like the pots scattered around the hardwood floors, stuffed with soil and assiduously sprinkled with the seeds of more flowers, more color, more vibrancy because Minhyuk is fairly good at this ― taking care of things, keeping his promise.

And like Minhyuk.

 _Minhyuk._ His everything. His Seoul. His home.

 

 

 

. . .

 

 

 

"Is it wrong that I'm excited?" Jooheon asked, eyes following the Earth passing through his window. His smile was wide when he whipped his head to Minhyuk beside him, thin novel in hand. "Are we doing the right thing?"

" _Are_ we doing the right thing?" Minhyuk repeated back to him. He lifted an eyebrow, challenging, and Jooheon could only laugh.

The trees blurred, and familiarity became land that Jooheon had never known. His hands were balled on his jeans as the bus continued pulling them along, away from Daegu, heart thumping with an anxiety and adrenaline that'd never simultaneously rushed through him.

Was this ― the freedom, the weight off his shoulders that felt like soft wind calmly brushing through his hair ― what he was missing?

Does he want this?

 _Do_ you want this? he could hear Minhyuk saying, right in his head, and a smile smeared over his lips that broke into a grin because it was okay to let himself be happy.

He did. This, all of it, was what he wanted. What he'd always wanted. Something he didn't even know that he yearned for from within, ripping himself to shreds because he could never have it.

He smiled at Minhyuk, their fingers finding each other.

Little, playful brushes that became Minhyuk's pinkie hooked on his, their eyes shining with the same exhilaration, the same feeling of love. They were full of little secrets.

And he knew, simply, this was the right thing.

The way Minhyuk looked at him, blinking unevenly with dark eyelashes and thin cheeks that crinkled his eyes when he smiled ―

that could never be wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on my [tumblr](https://nottechae.tumblr.com/)! (you can follow my [honeypup tumblr](https://joominty.tumblr.com/) too, but i've pretty much abandoned it)


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